The Key to the Future
by cajun dreamer
Summary: LukeLorelai Some sexual situations, as well as language. Possible spoilers throughout upcoming episodes.
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at any kind of fic. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.  
  
Moonlight streamed through the open window, seeming to illuminate the key resting on her palm. A gentle breeze drifted in through the window, causing the flame from the candle to flicker and produce dancing shadows on the wall. She stood there, gazing out the window, seemingly admiring all the hard work she'd poured into the inn. However, her mind was troubled and raced with the implications the key represented. A simple key, she pondered, that seemed so light in her hand, carried a much greater weight. With the day winding down, and everyone finally gone, she replayed the incident from this morning over and over again in her mind. She'd been blindsided by the offer of a key to his apartment, and thought the fastest way to get him out of there, and out of the situation, was to smile and slide the key in her pocket. In hindsight, she could plainly see she'd been wrong. She silently criticized herself. Why was she making the key into such an issue? Did everything with him have to be an issue? Her parents? The key? Logically, it was the next step in their relationship, and they had been dating awhile. But she knew in heart she didn't want it, or what it represented.  
  
Her cell phone rang, jarring her from her contemplations. A quick glance down at the screen confirmed her suspicion that it was he. She knew he'd eventually call. Wanting to discuss the status of their relationship, no doubt. Especially after the way she'd hustled him out of the inn, with a quick peck on the cheek and hurried excuses about work to be done and delivery shipments. Her phone beeped, signaling that a voice mail had been left. She absently turned off the phone and continued staring out the window as her mind traveled towards another man. The one she'd been sidestepping her feelings about for years. The one she went to for everything. The one that always magically knew what to say or do to make it better, and hold her up when she didn't even realize she needed someone to lean on. It was finally time to do something. Anything. She couldn't ignore it any longer, or keep pushing it aside with new excuses. She couldn't continue on this way. Dating someone until it got serious, only to hurt that person when it came down to the crunch, because her feelings for another man and a life she secretly dreamt of got in the way. It wasn't fair to anybody. She sank down into the chair by the window and rested her head on her arms, trying to figure out how she was going to gently let one man down and lay her heart out for another.  
  
He stared up at her from the front lawn, his heart beating wildly in his chest, and wondered if he should come back another time. She looked exhausted. And he hated to add to her burdens, but the only time to talk to her alone was here at the inn, after everyone had left. He didn't know what else to do. His heart was heavy. And tired. Tired of wanting and tired of waiting. He took the last swig of his beer and threw it in the construction trash bin. Liquid courage, he thought wryly. He needed another. He had come by this morning to try to talk to her after she'd skipped breakfast for the third day in a row. Came at just the right time to see the slick city guy handing her a key. Then, he'd turned around and strode right back to his diner, berating himself the entire way for his lack of nerve. Somewhere between then and a six pack, he'd steeled his resolve and decided he had to say everything he'd ever wanted to say, before it was too late...again.  
  
He silently made his way up the stairs and stopped at the doorway of the room. Her hair shone in the moonlight, cascading down her back. He wondered if she was asleep, as he slowly made his way over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. Startled, she glanced up and then with a look of relief, her mouth eased into that slow smile he loved.  
  
"Coffee?" he asked in uncharacteristically gentle tone, "You look tired."  
  
"You are a life saver. The red one."  
  
"And you should take a break."  
  
"I thought that's what I was doing," she said and took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"Hmmmph," he grunted, effectively expressing his difference of opinion concerning her last statement. "Anyway, I came to see how you were since you haven't been by in a few days...and to, um, talk about a few things."  
  
"Yeah?" she replied, with another smile. "I actually need to run some things by you too. So how convenient for us both."  
  
"Okay, well, you first. As long as it doesn't involve terms for paying back that loan or another thank you, I'll listen. Otherwise..." he started, before she cut him off by holding up a key.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It's a key."  
  
"Obviously," he retorted, "what it's for?  
  
"A life-long commitment? The next step? Till death do us part? Blush and bashful?" she responded quickly, before finally saying, "An apartment."  
  
"So why are you telling me?" he responded, trying to ignore the despair and panic bubbling up in the back of his throat.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't know why you're telling me your boyfriend gave you a key to his apartment?"  
  
"I never said my boyfriend gave me a key to his apartment. I could've meant an apartment in the city. An apartment for Rory. Lane's apartment. When did I ever say he was my "boyfriend", anyway?" she trailed off.  
  
He groaned and pushed himself away from the windowsill he'd been leaning on to stand in front of her. He took the coffee out of her hands and sat it on the table, next to the candle, and crouched down in front of where she was sitting.  
  
"Lorelai," he began in an irritated tone, staring directly into her eyes, "I'm tired of this."  
  
"Of what? Keys? Apartments? Me? Or keys and apartments? What are you talking about?" she babbled nervously.  
  
"This! You know exactly what I'm talking about. Hell, the whole town knows what I'm talking about. They've probably got a secret pool, betting on when one of us will finally snap. Taylor will make it a festival. There'll be punch."  
  
"Luke..." she started.  
  
"I'm sick of it!" he spat out, not giving her a chance to finish whatever she was going to say. "We keep tiptoeing around the issue until the awkwardness goes away, only to fall back in the same monotonous routine until something or someone else comes along to rock the boat. Well, guess what? I'm sick of the boat rocking. I'm ready to flip the son of a bitch over and set it on fire!"  
  
He gave her an exasperated glare and pulled her out of the chair, at the same time hauling her against his chest. He knew her mind was reeling from his outburst, could see it in her eyes. However, he'd come too far to backpedal now. His lips captured hers, caressing unrelentingly. She gasped from the intensity of his kiss and his tongue invaded her mouth. His teeth gently tugged at her lips. When she pushed his baseball cap of his head and fisted her hands in his hair, he was lost. He slid his hands in the silky hair at the nape of her neck, tilted her head back, and devoured her neck. He trailed hot kisses everywhere his lips met bare skin, her soft whimpers driving him closer and closer to the edge. Finally, he found her mouth once more, slowly and urgently taking what he had wanted, and needed, for years. 


	2. Chapter 2

Her hands roamed down his back until they reached the hem of his shirt, pushing the material up and over his head. She ran her hands over his chest and stomach, the muscles quivering at her touch, while he continued his assault on her mouth. She lightly scraped her nails down his back, and he groaned into her mouth. He abruptly maneuvered them around until her back was against the wall next to window, and his fingers clumsily fumbled at the buttons on her shirt.  
  
"Lorelai...?" he questioned, his voice low and raspy.  
  
"Ssshhhh," she mumbled against his lips, "don't talk, not now, not yet."  
  
Acknowledging her request, he wrapped his arms around her waist and licked a blazing path from her jaw line to the creamy swell of her breast. She angled his head back, nibbling at his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath her lips. His thumb traced a lazy circle around her navel before he slid her shirt down her arms. He buried his head in the crook of her neck trying to control his erratic breathing and gather some semblance of control while her teeth nipped at his naked shoulder. His hands skated leisurely up the length of her arms, stroking and caressing, before he smoothed his palms over the velvety skin at her collarbone. At the sound of gravel crunching, his eyes flew open and focused on the car in the driveway. And there was the control he needed, rushing in like freight train and making his breath hitch.  
  
"Lorelai..." he began.  
  
"Please don't stop," she whispered. "Can we not talk for about fifteen more minutes, then I'll be Miss Chatter."  
  
"Lorelai," he insisted again as he placed his hands on her face, forcing her to look at him. God, he thought, she was beautiful. Her lips were swollen, her face flushed, and her eyes burned with an emotion he wished he could swallow and keep forever.  
  
"Luke, what the hell is so important it has to be said right now?" she said impatiently.  
  
"You might want to take a glimpse out the window, and tell me if that's whose car I think it is."  
  
She swung her head around, peeking out the window. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit!" she repeated until he took her shoulders and turned her back around to face him. He leaned in and kissed her one last time, hard and quick, before leaning down and pulling his shirts back over his head.  
  
"Get dressed," he commanded gruffly," and you know where to find me when you get rid of Mr. Wall Street and are ready to finish this. I'll slip out the back way." And with those final parting words, she watched dumbly as his flannel-clad back disappeared into the dark hallway. The car door slammed and yanked her out of her stupor. She bent down and quickly pulled her shirt on, silently cursing whomever originally thought buttons were a good idea. After she had finally got her shirt on, she blew out the candle, grabbed her coffee and took a huge gulp. She had foolishly thought that maybe the coffee would erase Luke's taste out of her mouth. Her fingers skimmed her over her lips, alternately shocked and electrified by not only the swollen rawness of them, but by the man that was guilty for their current condition. She slipped noiselessly out of the room and flew down the stairs to meet Jason at the front door of the inn.  
  
He soundlessly made his way back towards to the diner, the cool breeze a welcome relief on his heated skin. He couldn't believe what had just happened, and what would have happened if it weren't for that damned interruption. Maybe, he thought, it was for the best. A chance to weigh the situation in their minds before it was too far-gone to salvage any remainder of their friendship. But he didn't see how they could go back now. What had just transpired between them was indelibly etched into his memory. The silkiness of her skin, the lush softness of her lips against his. On his skin. The sound of his name whispered breathlessly, pleading for more. Oh God, he reflected, had anyone ever said his name like that before? It was like a drug, or what he thought drugs might be like, because he desperately needed more. Needed to hear his name again and again in that same throaty, craving tone. Needed to feel her mouth against his, feverishly giving and taking.  
  
"Luke?" Sookie inquired, jerking him out of his reverie and breaking his stride. At his raised eyebrow, she continued, "Have you seen Lorelai, because the contractor called and had to reschedule, and..." she paused at his irritated gaze, "anyway, I was hoping she was here."  
  
Luke glanced up and realized he was standing directly across from the diner, before he answered, "She's at the inn. I took some coffee over there, and wanted to see if she needed any help."  
  
"Oh," she responded, "I tried calling her phone, but she's got it turned off, and she never turns it off, so I thought I'd run over here and try to catch her and make sure everything was alright, because, you know, she usually comes in here for coffee or pie, or something, every night. But, um, are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm great. Just fine. I just need to get in the diner and clean up," he replied.  
  
Sookie smiled her thanks and started to head back home, as Luke called out from the where he was unlocking the door of the diner, "Why?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why did you ask if I was okay? Do I look sick?" he asked.  
  
"No, silly," she giggled, "I've just never seen you without a hat on."  
  
Luke stared at his reflection in the door. His hair was skewing out from head at all angles. And the collar of his shirt was sticking up like a bad Elvis impression. He rushed in the diner and up the stairs to his apartment to see how bad the damage was in fluorescent light. 


End file.
